@Durin
I can dream
Sparks in the darkness
Bubonicus. A demon world of Nurgle. A fetid pit of scum and vileness. Stolen from the Old Imperium it had been forsaken by all sane beings for millennia. Abandoned by all save the corrupt and the damned.
Until today.
Through toxic clouds descend a swarm of shuttles, their wards straining against the petulant air. All but the first. The lead craft glows with a golden halo, the light seeming to burn away the corruption before it. Demons roar and are answered by bolt and beam. Purifying destruction paves a path to the ground.
A man steps from the first shuttle. His body is frail. Weathered as if by great strain and weight of years. Yet to look upon him is to know
power for his soul shines like a beacon. Adorning him is a regalia of black crystal. Around him the blighted ground writhes… stills… and withers to leave untainted soil. The very essence of chaos driven out by his mere presence.
Seamus Lin, the Last Saint Of The Emperor.
Soon he is joined by four companions.
To his right stand a pair of giants. Men of such stature and presence that they are merely dwarfed, not eclipsed, by the star that is the Saint's soul. One bears the symbol of the wolf. The other the raven. Leman Russ and Corvus Corax.
To his left stand beings of inhuman grace. Tall and slender. One in armour of blue and red. The second in black and bone. Asurmen and Maugan Ra.
Around these legends rain an army. Thousand of the best warriors from across the sane galaxy. Human, Eldar and Marine. Their armour engraved with runes. Their weapons aglow with psionic power. A force to conquer worlds. Assembled to buy but a few hours.
Steadying himself Saint Lin projects his Self. Reaching beyond the fetid air and rancid earth. Past rotten and crumbling bedrock. Through Bubonicus's putrid core. Reaching at last to the Plague God himself. And then…
he struck.
-
Across the galaxy a trillion mouths cry out in agony.
-
The Plague Father. The Master of Pestilence. The Lord of Decay. Nurgle… screamed.
A mortal has
hurt Him. An insignificant fly had come to one of His worlds and caused Him
pain. Such a trespass could not be borne. Gathering his power the Greatest Of Unclean Ones turned his will against the insolent fools that profaned him domain.
In doing so he seals his doom.
The Star Father, enraged beyond all reason, clashed against Nurgle. Demanding absolute dominion over Bubonicus and all upon it. Legions of Angyls stream towards the demon world. Tearing apart everything, mortal or demon, between them and the false saint that denies their God Emperor.
From the shadows the God of Death strikes. Aiming to bring True Death to the Fly Lord's most fervent followers. Greater and Honoured demons falling to the Eldar deity.
A dozen lesser gods emerge from hiding. Ripping into the weakened defences of the Great Corrupter's holdings. A coalition of weaklings coming together to humble their better.
Moments later the torrent of assaults redoubles as opportunist take note of Disrepair's sudden weakness.
In desperation Nurgle calls up every scrap of power. Every servant and servitor. Every last ounce of strength. This affront would. Not.
Stand!
-
The inner sanctum of Decay is quiet. Gardens emptied as armies are marshalled elsewhere. Rooms abandoned as generals and champions are called up. And through this unguarded fortress a shadow stalks. Even undefended this place is far from safe but the shadow moves with confidence. He has walked these halls before and emerged alive, if not unscathed. Winning free with knowledge worth a thousand worlds. Today he seeks a far greater prize. Soon enough he reaches the Door. One final obstacle between him and the Plague God's greatest treasure.
For the second time Munstrum Ridcully stands before Isha's prison. Blind eyes scour this last barrier, seeking even the smallest imperfection. Raising his hand the Oracle of Avernus reaches out…
